I am so proud of what I just wrote I think I'm going to need to open the window to make room for my ego. It's beautiful. It's perfect. And I'm not trying to make myself feel good, I honestly can't see it any other way. Or at least the bombastic and/or exultant part of me can't, and since it gets immensely powerful whenever it has a reason to, I'm going to have to wait until the temporary afterglow of having accomplished something wears off to really think about it.

Or am I? Grandiloquence is a pretty excellent feeling. It's nice to not have myself constantly second-guessing everything I do and ensnaring my thoughts in so many miles of red tape. Red tape that has lettering on it not entirely dissimilar to caution tape - urging me to take my time! deliberate! reconsider! maybe this isn't such a good idea! what if it sucks! it's probably going to end up sucking! you're hesitating too much and it won't come out as a smooth stream of thought! so stop and think a bit before you type that, you bumbling coxcomb!

But as one part of myself furiously wraps my gestalt in "you are an idiot stop that" tape, another part cuts it to ribbons with a "fuck it man why not" knife. And ties the ribbons delicately into bows and hangs them around the metaphorical office building that is my mind. It's distracting, but festive. Although suspending my inhibition tends to create asinine situations. And that's why the ribbon-cutter is running the show right now. He knows not to panic when things get stupid because everything is stupid at some point and I bet I could really do something wonderful if I put myself to it and stopped worrying about the gestalt-wrapper and the crippling self-doubt for just a goddamn minute and then I end up being a pretentious blowhard and unsubtly telling people I'm a lot smarter than them and then they unsubtly tell me they'd like to slug me in the jaw and well he doesn't look that much bigger, I know a couple armbars, maybe I ought to consider how I'd actually do in a

No, I think I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here, let's take it down a notch, I was kind of being an ass and maybe I ought to cut it out - and for what it's worth, perhaps I'm exactly hot shit, and maybe I should stop acting like I am, which would save me a lot of unnecessary trouble and trauma and drama and

Why do I always have to be such a goddamn ineffectual milquetoast in situations like this? Yeah, maybe I should be a little more aware of my physical limitations, and maybe I shouldn't be so flamboyant with my talent, but I shouldn't deny its existence, it's obviously there, if I just used it instead of pussyfooting around I'd be moving mountains instead of

Realistically speaking...Realistically speaking. I am not really that impressive, and it would probably be wiser to sit back and listen to those with more experience, those who know what they're talking about, those who aren't young and stupid and

How did they get that experience? How did they learn what they're talking about? Sure as hell not by sitting there like idiots and sucking up to a bunch of

Experts, which I am currently not,

But I could be if I tried, which I never have, because I've been so caught up in horseshit what-ifs that I'm constantly deadlocked.

And it is here that I can agree with the ribbon-cutter, to whose fighting spirit I owe every forward movement I've ever made. But at the same time I can no more easily ignore the ribbon-wrapper than run crazily through a school dance wearing naught but a Richard Nixon mask. Although both would probably be awesome, there's just too much tape around my mind to be that brash. And, despite the obvious handicap incurred by the presence of the tape, it's really the only thing holding my mind together. Burning pathos, without a coherent object(ive) to be aimed at, is simply a raging inferno in a house without fire insurance.

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